Mr. Mangles had naturally selected the leeward side of the deck-house
for his seat, and Miss Cahere had brought Cartoner round to the weather
side, where a cold Atlantic breeze made the position untenable. Without
explanation, and for her own good, he led the way to a warmer quarter.
But at the corner of the deck-house a gust caught Miss Cahere, and held
her there in a pretty attitude, with her two hands upraised to her hat,
looking at him with frank and laughing eyes, and waiting for him to come
to her assistance. The same gust of wind made the steamer lurch so that
Cartoner had to grasp Miss Cahere's arm to save her from falling.

"Thank you," she said, quietly, and with downcast eyes, when the
incident had passed. For in some matters she held old-fashioned notions,
and was not one of the modern race of hail-fellow-well-met girls who are
friendly in five minutes with men and women alike.

When she came within sight of her uncle, she suddenly hurried towards
him, and made an affectionate, laughing attempt to prevent his returning
his cigar-case to his jacket pocket. She even took possession of the
cigar-case, opened it, and with her own fingers selected a cigar.

"No," she said, firmly, "you are going to smoke again at once. Do you
think I did not see you throw away the other? Mr. Cartoner--is it not
foolish of him? Because I once said, without reflecting, that I did not
care about the smell of tobacco, he never lets me see him smoke now."

As she spoke she laid her hand affectionately on the old man's shoulder
and looked down at him.

"As if it mattered whether I like it or not," she said. "And I do like